A Loneliness Shattered
by Anixi3L
Summary: "You have no idea what you are asking," he whispered against her lips; "none at all." Vincent Valentine finally comes to terms with his need to move on from his tragic past, guided by something unexpected. Yuffie/Vincent.
1. A Love Condemned But Never Forgotten

**_Title: A Loneliness Shattered_**

**_Summary: The past can teach us, reflecting upon it can help us, _**_**but it cannot sustain us. The essence of life is change, and we must continue forward or else the soul will wither and die.**_

**_Character Pairing: Vincent Valentine x Yuffie Kisaragi_**

_**Rating: **_**_M for some graphic detail and language, as well as eventual sexual content in later chapters. _**

**_A/N: Italics are the thoughts of people; bold italics are the thoughts of Hellmasker._**

**_Disclaimer: _**_**I do not own anything related to Final Fantasy VII, including its affiliated characters.**_

* * *

_**Chapter 1: **_**_A Love Condemned But Never Forgotten_**

_"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness, errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering and tarnishing." ~ Author unknown._

The distinct, tattered, scarlet fabric billowed gracefully around the slight, svelte frame of its master with an infinite and enchanting ease. Bewitching almost, it would have been to those who had the pleasure to remain within his company and observe, but like on so many other innumerable occasions, he was alone. The quiet solace found within the darkness welcomed him, and he welcomed it in return.

Vincent Valentine was a man shrouded in mystery. A silentious and ethereal enigma of the heroes of the Jenova war, with an intelligence unrivaled. A tormented soul trapped within an eternal thralldom for past 'sins' committed. _No amount of confession can absolve him... never can he be granted redemption. _Empathy with a creature such as himself was _impossible—_indubitably _unattainable._

The Deepground conflict had ended exactly three months ago now, its leader Weiss finally defeated. With the destruction of Omega, the demon Chaos had at last been released. Unfurling to its full extent and erupting from within its human host to meet Omega head on. With the entity's release, an opportunity presented itself for the others to do the same. Vincent quietly recalled the excruciating pain that had ripped throughout his impaired frame as each beast followed suit, bursting forth from within him. Death Gigas, Galian, Chaos... each entity erupting with an immense wave of intense agony greater than the last.

_All but one._

Hellmasker... he however, had _chosen_ to remain.

What had become of his other inhabitants, he was uncertain. The majority of his physical enhancements had remained intact, but he himself was no longer immortal. That blight had vanished, along with the demon Chaos. The Gunslinger surveyed the darkened landscape silently, arms crossed, the metallic gauntlet encasing his forearm shimmering within the dimmed starlight. Shifting his weight slightly, he let out a diminutive sigh, his brow furrowed in perturbed thought. The fiery, lurid embers usually reflected within his eyes now nothing more than a muted, dull hue.

A slight pattering sound alerted the crimson eyed being of his comrade's approach; the tinkle of her weaponry betraying her deliberate steps. He found the familiar form of Yuffie slowing a few meters to his left where she paused, lingering within the shadows of the Tavern they had been occupying the past few days. He nodded lightly in acknowledgement, but gave no inclination that he was about to engage in any conversation. Instead, he merely turns his attention back to the landscape ahead, dismissing the young woman. He was in no particular mood for any company.

Hearing more acute than that of any normal being, he picked up on the quiet rustling of her clothing as she shifted cautiously towards him. A moment passes in brief silence.

His eyes dart deliberately to the rocky turf at his feet with the utterance of her words. A voice profuse with youthful brashness—a voice at times he found comfort in and others, mild irritation—he impassively listened to his young comrade's inquiring tone.

"Vinnie? What ya thinking about out here all alone?" She mused, in her usual jubilant and chirpy manner.

In response, he merely gives a slight shrug, encouraging her to move slightly closer. Now situated right beside him, she noted even in the faint traces of moonlight, that same, familiar troubled look. In an attempt to extinguish the intensifying tension, she continued her encouraging chatter now with a somewhat, forced cheerfulness. Bouncing onto the balls of her feet, the young girl grinned up at him broadly.

"I was thinkin' that tomorrow we could —"

"— I'm leaving Yuffie." Vincent interjected sharply; his response was quiet, his expression passive. The young Ninja stiffened; her grin faltered and abruptly fell.

"Wh-what? But... why?" She stammered, dark eyes widening in bewilderment and disbelief. When he gave no immediate response she hastily pressed on. "Bu-but... I had so much planned for us to do this fall... you won't miss that will you?" Unbridled emotion now threatening to spill over and soak the dark lashes. Another pause follows, her features drawing into a morose grimace as she adds a soft plea. "Please, Vinnie... don't g—"

"—I have no further reason to remain here Yuffie. I am leaving first light." He stated, his deep voice quiet, almost strained. His eyes conveyed an emotion she had never seen before. A stifling silence descends upon the two comrades, many thoughts being left unsaid. The youth knows what she _wants_ to say, of course—a disrespectful and sharp-tongued comment that will undoubtedly earn her a serious reprimand, but for this particular moment, she does not wish to face Vincent's own cutting tongue. Another grimace distorts her features, but it no longer an imploring one, this one is of petulance—sheer animosity.

_After everything we have been through together... evacuating Midgar... saving its people from Sephiroth's Meteor spell. Thwarting Deepground. Defeating Omega... me preventing Rosso from killing him in cold blood! After all these years you'd think he'd at least show me some gratitude! What an ungrateful, selfish jerk! _A calming breath is sucked in, in order to steady the rapid afflicting emotions pulsating through her frame.

"I guess, this is our final goodbye then." Yuffie stated flatly, failing to disguise evident bitterness. This made Vincent turn to her at last; however, still encouraged no proper response from him, just a steely glare. Insistent, angered tears stung her eyes suddenly; she squints, turning away from him, desperate to keep them at bay. Surveying her ex comrade with one last look of disdain; she turns sharply, stalking haughtily back towards the Tavern's entrance. Blazing eyes silently observe the retreating figure with an expression of dejection. A gloved hand is lowered and placed delicately atop the abodes handrail, as another despondent sigh leaves his lips, whispering onto the chilled spring air as the elongated shadows engulf her once more.

A loud, harsh slam of a door shatters the previously tranquil morning, echoing to the farthest reaches of the silent landscape, causing some nesting birds to squawk in fright and take wing from the nearby, darkened treetops. With dawn fast approaching, the Gunslinger retreated moments later, proceeding to gather his sparse belongings. Once equipped, and without so much as a backward glance, he began the long and precarious decent towards the surrounding coast of Wutai.

_–Four years later–_

The thick blanket provided little comfort and warmth—frustration turned to anger and from anger to despair—as the bed creaked softly beneath the turning figure. A loud sigh was emitted as the woman gave up the futile attempt to catch up on some much needed sleep. Rising into a seated position, wide eyes scanned the darkened room. The all too familiar fleeting hope slowly ebbing away as her yearning gaze yet again, found no quiet dark figure silently watching over her from the shadows.

Vincent Valentine had still made no appearance prior to their last encounter. With the swiftness of a shadow he had vanished, his whereabouts unknown. The others had long since abandoned their futile search to no avail, but her thoughts of him however, had not ceased quite as easily as those of everyone else. Four long years had passed in his absence, seeping slowly by, uneventful and dull, with no excitement or meaning.

With the passing of time, the inevitable transition of maturity had consumed her body, forging solid curves and taut muscle, making it infinitely comparable to what it used to be—boyish, wiry and thin. The mane of hair was no longer short, but untamed, wispy and long, resting just below her shoulder blades, matching her eyes in its darkness. She had indeed blossomed into an attractive and spirited young woman, her rebellious and immature nature absconding in the process.

She emits an exasperated sigh. Swinging her lean legs around she shifts her frame onto the edge of the bed, slender hands coming up to support her chin in deliberation. _The most likely of places he would be was that damned cave... s_he thought bitterly. The same place he had regularly haunted years before they had met. Resting place of the woman from his tragic past. Her fingers curled subconsciously into fists as Lucrecia Crescent intruded her thoughts.

Assigned to guard the scientist in Nibelheim, Vincent was captivated by Lucrecia instantly. Yuffie was aware that it was during this period of time—due to this woman's selfish and deplorable actions—that he became subject to a series of scientific experiments. Experiments that would alter his very existence—bringing about his unceasing suffering and pain—pain he would have to endure for the rest of his unnatural life. However, in another more selfish retrospect, she was somewhat thankful to the woman for the tragedy she had caused, for she would never have met the Gunman in the first place.

The Wutaniese Ninja rose, abandoning her bed. Slowly, she approaches the large bay window of her room and pauses there. It is in these quiet, solitary moments that she stands overlooking the expanse of surrounding terrain—as she has done so many times before in the privacy of her bedroom—that she feels a sense of bitterness. Glassy eyes stare, unfocused and detached, the numerous scattered lights becoming hazy and blurred, as she briefly allows herself to become lost in her numerous thoughts.

Surely his absence would have made the feelings cease—fade from existence—but no, in actual fact it made them considerably worst, and it became more evident with each passing day he did not return. So often these feelings had been disregarded. A mere mutual infatuation—more to sate the dull and painful ache it evoked—merely lustful, teenage desires. Yet even now, after all this time, she yearned to hear that voice—_his voice_—deep and monotonous, never revealing any emotion, for he remained quiet the majority of the time. Reluctant on joining or contributing to the idle chatter of the rest of the group, instead choosing to remain within the shadows, quietly observing. How she longed to hear that voice again, it had been so long... she had almost forgotten how it sounded.

Indeed, he had been one of the oddest and disconcerted of people she had ever come across, but there was no denying the powerful allure he possessed. His quiet, caliginous personality only added to his intrigue. To her, he was exquisite perfection, all cadaverous muscle and dark cascading hair. A perfection she came to realize... she would probably never experience. Often she finds herself dreaming, _hoping_ that he could one day possibly love her... that he would relinquish the last remaining piece of his heart to her. Impatiently she waited; waited for the day that he would forget about _Lucrecia_, when he would finally accept that she was lost to him. It was clear now. He haunted her—_tormented her_—refusing to leave her mind in peace.

* * *

The skin which used to bear the healthy, radiant glow of the suns rays was no longer present. Instead it was pallid—pale as death itself. The genuine, carefree smile that had often graced the seraphic visage, long since forgotten. Faint shadows ringed the fiery eyes that were now currently fixed—as they frequently were—upon the glowing form of the woman who continued to relentlessly torment him. This is where he chose to remain; content with his own dark and bitter thoughts, his red, tattered cape sprawled out behind him.

Glimmering arcs of light, radiated from the delicate crystals, danced across the rugged walls, becoming lost and distorted by its copious, hidden crevices—their eerie sheen bathing the troubled features in a radiant glow—illuminating the unnatural eyes magnificently. To anyone, he would have been the vision of perfection. However, beneath the beautiful facade manifested sorrow, loneliness and regret. What little humanity that remained within him was slowly dying—withering away—as he sat days on end, staring longingly at the woman he was never destined to have.

For so long now he had tried to cut her from his life—_Lucrecia_—to try and eradicate her from his mind, his memories, his _thoughts... _but he always seemed to find himself continuously returning here. As if some incomprehensible force pulled him back with no regard for his misery or pain. There was the slightest sigh, a saddened gaze leaves her features momentarily, to focus on the gilded saboteurs which at some point, had been normal feet.

"Lucrecia..." he whispered mournfully, but as it so often did, his despairing utterance falls on death ears.

* * *

Jealousy was a bitter emotion, with ravaging and consequent impact. To keep such an emotion contained within oneself for so long had a profound effect. Growing steadily, increasing... amplifying until it grew into an immense hatred. Yuffie knew that the potent jealousy that filled her heart would never cease. It felt almost ready to implode. An explanation had been anticipated long enough. In one swift motion, she mounted her dark Chocobo and took to the surrounding rocky mountain terrain of Wutai.

As soon as the creature touched down onto the jutting rock shelf some hours later, she quickly dismounted. Gazing up at the dwellings cascading water, apprehension suddenly gripped her trembling legs, making them unresponsive and motionless. The bitter wind of the approaching winter bit at the bare flesh of her exposed limbs—her eardrums filled with the thunderous roar of the churning water—a long shuddering breath left her parted lips, as she braced herself and stepped through the curtain of frigid liquid.

An immediate quietness ensued. Squinting into the dim light, her eyes immediately sought any movement. However, she quickly ascertained that there was no Vincent here, just the being she immensely despised. Trapped within one of the many Mako crystal pillars protruding from the rock surface, there she was, _Lucrecia Crescent_. Following her desertion of Shinra, she eventually ended up within the Crystal Cave—doomed to be encased within its walls forever—and that's just where Yuffie liked her. Though she wished Vincent had never discovered this wretched place in which she dwelled.

She sat and glowered at the beautiful woman with resentful intensity. Hatred and jealousy amplifying within her to a whole new level. Still, there was no denying the radiant beauty Lucrecia possessed, incomparable to her own. How she wished the woman would just deteriorate before her very eyes. In her sour thoughts, her eyes prickled and stung. The warm, clear, liquid that had been threatening to fall for so long at last bid its freedom. The salty substance rolling feebly down her burning cheek was hastily wiped away in frustration as she began to vent aloud, pacing back and forth before the lucent, crystalline tomb.

"It's all your fault," she whispered bitterly at the lifeless figure. "You, you're the reason he cannot move on with his life! The reason for his dejected and bitter ways... why do you insist on tormenting him so? Have you not caused him enough misery already?" The whispers had now risen to angry cries, echoing around her vehemently. "If it wasn't for you he would be back in Wutai with the others... with me! Actually enjoying the remainder of his life! Not here in this wretched place with you!"

Coming to a stop, she kicked the water ebbing at her feet in frustration, droplets of the frigid substance splashing up her bare legs, making her shudder. Sighing quietly as the anger began to subside, she clamped a hand tightly around her upper arm, causing white rings to form from the pressure of her fingertips, her gaze following the expanding ripples, distorting the reflection of the woman she loathed. Long moments passed in silence as she remained this way.

The heavy curtain of mist surrounding her shifted suddenly, every hair on the back of her neck stiffening as she sensed some unknown presence. Before the Ninja could even consider her next movement, she heard a curious sound from directly behind her. Quickly followed by the undoubtedly cold, hard rim of a gun being pressed firmly to back of her neck.

"Don't move." Came an all too familiar, monotonous voice, sending a painful jolt to her stomach. A voice of velvet, so eloquent and soft, yet gripped with such unambiguous melancholy. Dark eyes widening in alarm, she froze, slowly raising her hands into a gesture of compliance.

"Face me." The voice commanded quietly.

Drawing a deep, careful breath, she slowly turned. The very breath she had sucked in seemed to catch in her throat, her heart rattling the very foundations of her body as she immediately found them. The intense red lucidity of the most magnificent eyes she had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Currently, they were fixed with her own, boring into her as though dissecting her very thoughts. A silence falls between them briefly as the alarm and trepidation quickly cease, Yuffie's expression melting into one of relief. Vincent Valentine's expression however, remains stern; he did not appear to register who she was. The triple-barreled Cerberus remains aimed at her chest, his lips pressed together; down turned and unsmiling as he continued to fix her with a callous stare.

"Vincent?" She uttered, whisper carrying eerily around the expanse of the cavern. He frowned in response—lowering the gun slightly—his face remained passive. "How do you know my name?" he replied softly, tone somewhat inquiring.

"It's me, Yuffie!" She cried, lowering her arms slightly, trying desperately to discern his expression. True to his usual nature, it was only the subtle widening of his eyes that gave away his shock. The vagueness of his expression vanished as he lowered the revolver silently, eyes swiftly roving over her now 'fuller' form, sending a faint blush to her cheeks. In one fluid motion, he swept the threadbare remains of his cape aside and returned the revolver to its home—the holster attached to his right leg. Seeming to take a sudden interest in the thin rivulets of water flowing gently down the nearby rock face, he stared ahead of her.

"Yuffie... what are you doing here?" He intoned, frustration evident in his quiet voice. She tries to remain calm, to keep collected. She should be used to his dejected ways by now, having dealt with them many times before. But his inattentive sounding words only encouraged the steadily rising anger within her to intensify. This was not the welcome she had so long anticipated.

"Vincent... I have not seen you in at least four years. You don't seem too pleased to see me." She intoned with apparent anger, though her expression remained evidently hurt. "I suppose you have been too busy here—she motioned airily to their surroundings—moping about... self loathing." There is a displeased note to her voice, one that manages to stir his eyes to hers briefly.

_Flee... flee for your own sanity... before you can inflict any harm! _The ever adamant conscience of his screamed at him_,_ _return to your impervious darkness... _

A silence falls heavy over the cavern briefly as Vincent continues to regard her with this cold stare. Yuffie shifts slightly, clearly uncomfortable beneath the searing heat of his gaze.

_She always had been persistent... relentless..._

"Why did you leave? You just vanished, without even giving me or anyone else an explanation," a hint of sadness now seeping into her tone. "Didn't you think I was at least deserving of that?" He considered her for a moment, using the brief silence to formulate a befitting response.

"Omega had been destroyed. You were safe. I saw there was no longer an intention for me to remain in Wutai." He replied, his red eyes piercing as he fixes her with another of those intense and glorious stares.

_Pull her in... into the darkness... make her feel the insufferable icy bite of sorrow and regret... she does not understand - she will never understand!_

She quickly averts her own eyes to the rocky ground. It is all she do not to reveal how thrilling she finds his gaze, the small electrifying shivers prickling up her spine becoming increasingly discomforting. After a brief moment,—where she takes the opportunity to compose herself—her eyes slide back up to meet his, anger now clearly bubbling away within them.

"Do your friends not matter to you anymore? Or do the remains of your, your trinket!—she motioned angrily to Lucrecia—matter more to you? Because it sure seems that way." Vincent's eyes abruptly squeeze closed, blocking out the animosity, the _grief_. Evidently her words had stirred something bitter within him. His eyes lift to search hers momentarily, imploring and hesitant. "I have committed many sins Yuffie." His voice was quiet, barely a whisper. "More than you could even comprehend."

_Force her to endure them... to suffer them as you do..._

She forces herself to draw in a deep breath, trying to keep her admittedly short temper in check, but it is rapidly dwindling. She can feel his eyes searching her face, seeking the slightest shred of compassion—of understanding. Her own are momentarily drawn back to Lucrecia, a sudden lick of anger spurting through her nerves. A soft sigh pierces the air as she shoves her hands to her slender hips. "If you are referring to you not being able to stop the Jenova Project—" she pauses, allowing the deadly retort to hang on the silence, an exasperated sneer contorting her features. Vincent's own sneer was far more impressive.

_What does she know of eternal purgatory? Punish her as you have been punished!_

"How much longer are you going to go on blaming yourself?" She snapped, "I don't know what more I can possibly do to convince you—"

"—then don't bother." Vincent interjected coldly, eyes remaining focused ahead of her, determined not to meet her own. His loathsome words gave a deep strike, Yuffie's mouth fell open as her next words died on her tongue, her brow becoming etched with furrowed lines as she regards him with a resentful glare.

"Fine, please yourself. I wont then!" She cried, taking several incensed steps backwards. Turning sharply on her heels she bolts toward the cavern exit, animosity evident in every step she took. Vincent emitted a quiet sigh, regarding the retreating figure with an expression of compunction, a pang of profound guilt beginning to penetrate his already troubled mind as he watched her yet again, vanish from sight.

_Good. Now you can return to the solace of darkness._

_But... I do not wish to._

* * *

The very world around her seemed slurred and surreal. Inhaling another shaky breath, she curled up in a futile attempt to numb the pain, but it never ceased. After all, it is much easier for external wounds to heal, not so much the ones within. She had learned quickly in life that tears only brought more pain, and expressing her grief brought no compassion. Eyes growing heavy, she welcomed the sleep threatening to ensue her with open arms. Mere moments later, she was blissfully safe within the dream world, the cold and wearisome reality of the real one slowly seeping away.

Some time later, her dulled senses picked up on something, slowly stirring her from her slumber. With the final remnants of sleep freeing her of their bindings, the faintest scent of gunpowder, mingled amongst something else became apparent to her sinuses. Bleary eyes peered around the now darkened room for the source of this smell, but were met with none. Aware of a sudden chill whispering over the portions of her bared skin, her eyes sought the large bay window; indeed it was now open, a soft breeze seeping beneath the raised sash, rustling the thin material draped either side of it. Grumbling wearily, she rose to her feet. Grasping the sash with both hands, she lowers it with a loud, forceful thud, causing the curtains to billow violently.

Then the smell returned, more potent now.

_Gunpowder_... _dust_... _earth_...

The biting sting of realization instantaneously sank in. Contemplating quietly she turns to face the expanse of her darkened room, anger already bubbling beneath the surface of her flushed cheeks as her eyes finally found him. There he was, stood in the darkest recesses of her room, head bowed slightly, arms folded across his emaciated chest as he studied her silently.

"Thought you would be with your beloved." She stated coldly, dismissing the rapid beating of her heart. Her own bitter voice sounded foreign to her ears. He however, dismissed her cold remark as if it hadn't been spoken at all.

"I came to apologize Yuffie," he stands only a foot away from her, eyes glowing with sincerity as they look upon the young woman. "For how I addressed you earlier, it was harsh of me."

"Apology accepted." She snapped, turning her back to him. "You can disappear again now." She adds stiffly, folding her arms defiantly, waiting for him to comply. "Yuffie please, don't be like this. At least hear an old comrade out?" She turns a skeptical eye to him, body stiff and haughty. However she nods, lips drawn into a disapproving sneer as she quietly awaits his explanation. He releases a slow, careful sigh, and then his eyes open—briefly hovering over to the darkened scenery outside her window.

"I only left before I had the opportunity to inflict any harm... any suffering to those around me. To those I care for. Especially you." His eyes flit briefly from the scenery to her, eliciting a slight shiver to creep up her spine. "We have been through a great deal together Yuffie, in fact, you could say I owe you my life."

She does not move for a long time, keeping her eyes steady, she remains silent. Not allowing herself to reveal the intensifying alleviation brought forth by his spoken words. His voice had become much more sombre, almost depressed. Yet there was such a melancholy air about it, so much so that she couldn't help but feel the emotion in his voice was not simple sadness, but regret... _guilt._ Despite his cold and distant personality, he was not uncaring. Just a man trapped in the tragedy of his past. With an underlying warmth and care for those closest to him.

"I have hurt enough people. Tainted those who I hold dearest to me... caused them misery you would not think me capable of. That is why... I wish to remain alone." His somber words struck her to the very core. Slowly, she lowers her arms, releasing a long breath she didn't even realize she had been holding in to begin with.

"Vincent, you caused more pain by leaving in the first place." She stated quietly. "Don't you see? Tifa and Cloud searched relentlessly for you when you vanished. Damn, even Cid was concerned about you! We all missed you. I-I missed you." She added, with a soft stammer.

He then understood how cruel his actions had been. Understood the pain he had put her through, the frustration, the anger from his sudden, unexplained abandonment. He could not blame her. However cruel, his actions did had reason, reasons that still brought forth inevitable consequences, but they were consequences he was willing to face in order to mend what was left of their broken friendship. He knew to do so would take quite some time.

"I will leave you to rest." The gunslinger stated quietly, looking towards her closed door. Yuffie swallowed hard, trying to discern the odd sensation suddenly rising within her. Maybe it was pity? Perhaps it was guilt? Perhaps it was concern—a concern elicited at the notion of him disappearing for years on end just like before. Closing the space between them in four strides, she threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking the bemused man off balance as she gripped him into a tight embrace.

Vincent paused, looking down at the crown of dark hair just beneath his concealed chin in mild amusement, his hand hovering uncertainly just behind her upper back. In the silence and anger that had dissipated, he became aware of the warmth radiating from her body, indubitably comparable to the coldness of his. After a brief moment, she feels a slight pressure spread across the center of her spine as he places his hand there, eliciting yet another thrill to creep up it. Not quite sure what to with himself, he holds her in this awkward embrace for a few moments before gently steering her toward the edge of her bed. Sitting her down, he places himself softly beside her, human hand clasping his knee, the other slumped within his lap.

"How did you even get in here?" She asked, breaking the stifling silence that had fallen, her ink coloured eyes searching his inquiringly. "The window of course." He replied simply, a hint of mischief flashing across his pale visage.

"Hmf... figures." She huffed, a coy smile playing across her lips. "You could have just knocked you know. It would have saved you a lot of bother." He regarded her with an affectionate stare. "I was not sure how to approach you to be honest, I was under the impression that you err... wanted to rip my head off."

The woman merely grinned up at him in response, and it was in that small fleeting moment that he realized how much he had missed her smile. Her voice, her laughter... the jubilant gleam that came to her eyes whenever chatting to him about petty, insignificant little things—but pleasant things all the same. He had almost forgotten how to enjoy them. Warmth spread suddenly across the length of his arm, making him stiffen slightly as she leaned into him. He had been alone in the dark far too long, physical contact and small amiable acts now seemed alien to him. After a brief silence she emits a soft sigh, drawing his eyes to her once again.

"You know, for so long I wanted to wake up to news of your return." Her voice is quiet; barely a whisper, she does not trust it to speak louder and expose her deeper feelings on the matter. "Yet... as days turned into weeks, weeks into months... months into years... I should have just accepted the fact that you probably never would." There was a distinct hint of sadness seeping into her tone. "I have missed you dearly Vincent." He tenses slightly as the heaviest silence yet descends upon them. She already knows her words have had a profound effect on the gunman but for the moment, she does not care. A look of concern crosses his features as he fixes the crown of dark hair with an intent stare, his expression disquieted.

_She has missed me? How can someone miss a creature such as me? _In response to his pondering, another voice, darker in nature spoke. A voice that was strangely familiar, yet not his own.

**_Is it not obvious? This woman bears feelings for you, hmmm_**—Hellmasker inhaled deeply—**_the aroma of her pheromones is so potent!_**

_W-what?... no. You're wrong. She does not. She can't. We are old comrades... friends, nothing more!_

**_How can you not see, when it is clearly so evident?_**—The Demon hissed within the recesses of his mind—**_I sense her desires… just as I sense yours._**

_Nonsense_.

**_I feel them… I smell them..._**—he mused in a deliberate hiss— **_as much as you so try to dismiss them, they still remain._**

Vincent found his gaze drawn inexplicably to the woman below him, to the crown of soft hair... the exposed portion of her shapely legs...

**_What young, flawless beauty… and spread to your whim! Do not tell me you have not considered this since you awakened all those years ago?_**

_Indeed, she has grown into a beautiful young lady, but..._

**_But?_**

_I am much too old. Too old to be courting a girl of her age. Regardless... she is my friend; it is not right for me to think of her in such a way._

_**Such feeble excuses.**_

_I can not–will not, taint her as I have done others._

**_So you will never allow yourself to love? _**

_I am not deserving of love. _

**_You are a fool Valentine. _**

_Perhaps I am. However you forget. I have seen the destruction of friendships... one-sided infatuations reaching their limits..._

"Even after all this time," her low murmur brings his attention abruptly from his thoughts. Glancing down at the cascading thick raven locks, obscuring her face from his view, he anticipates her next words. "I'm glad you returned to Wutai, and I got to see you again." Time seemed to seep by slowly; seconds grew into minuets and minuets into a steadily building hour. All the while, the young woman's words plagued his many disquieted thoughts as a pink hue touched the horizon, the skies growing steadily lighter.

"Yuffie?"

He glanced down when he was met with silence. She was slumped slightly, her chest rising and falling in a steady, even rhythm. A slight smile, obscured by thick folds of fabric graced his lips as he studied the slumbering girl, debating what to do. Carefully, he proceeds to gently guide her frame downwards upon the bed. She emits a soft sigh, her head lolling languidly to the side upon the soft cushioning of pillows, but thankfully she does not wake. Drawing back, Vincent reached for her discarded blankets nearby but suddenly paused.

In the process, her long night shirt had become a little disheveled, revealing a great portion of flesh. The glowing embers within his eyes grew a little brighter as he could not help but feast them upon the creamy skin of her thighs. Briefly he allows his gaze to sweep upwards, to her hips... then to the taut, firm skin of her stomach. A dull buzzing seemed to fill his ears—a lewd heat rising within him, slowly distinguishing the paleness in his sullen face—as a slight blush surfaced.

_**One touch… go on. **_**_I promise it will be most satisfying_**. Hellmasker urged slyly within Vincent's own disconcerted thoughts.

**_It has been s_**_**o long. An eternity, since you felt the sensation of a woman's tender flesh beneath your fingers…**_

Vincent noticed that his gloved hand had frozen, hovering over the bare flesh beneath it. A sudden overpowering sense of shame arose within him, snapping him back to reality. Dismissing the inappropriate images the demon was cleverly sewing within his mind, he proceeded to quickly snatch up the silken sheets, hastily draping them over her. Without a backward glance, he swiftly re-opens the window, slipping easily beneath the sill, he vanishes into the pervading effulgence of dawn.


	2. Unceasing Nightmare

_**A/N: I would just like to take the time to thank the people who have reviewed so far. I really appreciate your encouraging words. **_

_**Disclaimer: **_**_I do not own anything related to Final Fantasy VII, including its affiliated characters._**

* * *

**_Chapter 2: Unceasing Nightmare_**

_Reality is never as bad as a nightmare, as the mental tortures we inflict upon ourselves. ~ Sammy Davis, Jr._

_..._

_The frail, hunched figure turned in a deliberate and slow manner towards the defiant man stood before him, features obscured by shadow, rendering them near indistinguishable._

_"What you did was – was inhuman!" the younger man ground out, advancing towards the older gentlemen fiercely. _

_"How dare you," the other replied in a hollow whisper "Mine and Dr Crescent's experiments have brought about an astounding scientific breakthrough!" He snarled._

_"It was my duty to protect her... my responsibility to ensure her safety." The Turk replied flatly. "Now due to your asininity she lies half conscious in excruciating pain!" _

_"You fool... Lucrecia concurred to being the test subject!" The other spat in reply._

_"Regardless. It is my responsibility to_—_"_

_A grating, hollow cackle left the elderly mans lips, bringing the younger man to silence. The gunslinger does not fail to notice the mans withered hand now proceeding quickly to the large pocket of his lab coat. _

_"_—_Responsibility... indeed..." he uttered in a malicious whisper._

_In a matter of seconds he had rounded upon the Turk, a large revolver gripped within his gnarled hands, directed malevolently toward the younger mans heart. L__imbs stiffened, fingers twitched hopelessly, failing to respond_—_with a sharp click the trigger was pulled and the fatal shot fired. _

_An excruciating pain blazed throughout his torso, rendering every muscle and nerve immobile, forcing him to his knees. Vision blurred, his breath became labored and ragged as trembling fingertips sought subconsciously. The warm, metallic substance spread at an alarming speed, seeping rapidly into the expanse of cotton fabric, forming an ugly scarlet stain across his front. Somehow, over the shrill ringing in his ears, Hojo's crazed manic laughter could be heard erupting somewhere from above... and a shrill disembodied female cry__—desperate and terrified..._

_A cry that gripped his guilt ridden heart._

_"Vinnncent!"_

Vincent's eyes shot open to be met with the heavy muffled blackness of the Shinra Mansion. He remained frozen, trying, somewhere in his mind where he's still lucid, to calm his raging heartbeat, as the familiar heavy odor of rotting wood pervaded his senses. Sleep was a rarity to him, for many reasons, and it was during this rare occurrence that the broken fragments of his past were at their most prominent. Sinister voices, the clatter of small metal instruments, chilling whispers amongst many other odd indistinguishable sounds often plagued his slumber—always recurring, always inconsistent—serving as a constant reminder of his tragic, past iniquities.

Trembling fingertips were slowly raised, to smear away the small droplets of sweat heavily beading his brow as he peered blearily around the darkened room, trying to discern his whereabouts. Vaguely, he recalled the details of his journey to Nibelheim some days ago. After reconciling with his old comrade he had returned to the solace of the Shinra mansion in order to collect his thoughts and most importantly, catch up on some much required rest, for his body was not as resilient as it used to be. As with each passing day, he was experiencing the effects and complications of near-mortality more and more.

The manor in which he dwelled was impressively large, with expansive, looming cathedral like ceilings and windows, though not much light was ever permitted here. The entire place was shrouded in constant darkness; the tattered remnants of moth eaten drapes hung feebly either side of the thick wooden boards nailed into its peeling walls. The little light that flittered through, just enough to illuminate the manors numerous abandoned contents.

Uninhabited for a number of years, every neglected and marred surface had sufficed to an unceasing thick layer of dust, the gleam of mahogany dulled and forgotten. Its cramped furniture remained covered in thin—dust covered—plastic sheets, concealing the refined, rich leather beneath. A multitude of books lay discarded—splayed open or stacked in tall, jutting piles against the thick stone walls—flimsy remnants of cobwebs clinging desperately to their yellowed pages.

Despite of its neglect and state of disrepair, Vincent regarded the dark and desolate place as a home of sorts, having formed an odd attachment to it over the years. Rising silently from the hardened, lumpy mattress, he slumps wearily, exhaling quietly as his spine meets the numbing coldness of the coarse wall. He found himself experiencing those old feelings of sorrow and regret... _grief_ at the mere thought of her. With a quiet swallow, he forced them away.

**_Trouble sleeping again? _**

_The Nightmares... they are more vivid than ever._

**_Indeed. So what occurs during these torrent of Nightmares?_**

_Nothing in particular._

**_It does not sound like nothing. My slumber is often interrupted by your outcries._**

Vincent sighed inwardly, closing his eyes. Telling falsehoods would be futile, given the creature shared the plurality of his thoughts anyway.

_I relive the nightmares every day... it is my punishment for my inability to stop Hojo's deplorable actions._

**_You must shed what remains of your past and begin anew, or this burden will only intensify. _**

_That, I'm afraid, is not as easy as you would think. _Vincent replied cryptically.

**_Perhaps another visit to Wutai will preoccupy you… you know, take your mind off things? It has been a while. _**

Vincent snorted indignantly.

_Hellmasker... why do you insist on pressing this?_

**_Think of it as a reason for me to grant you the freedom you desire. For me to return to the planet, thus granting you the opportunity to attain that "normal" life you so desperately crave. _**The demon responded, its tone somewhat derisive_._

It was indeed a magnificent argument. The very prospect of the demon relinquishing his body and in turn finally freeing his soul stirred some sort of repressed longing within him. Vincent held no illusions about mortals. Their weaknesses, both physical and mental, their inability to prevent their own aging and eventual demise, but he still envied them... yearned for those hindrances that would make him one of them. The demons return to the planet would provide him with just that. The opportunity to attain everything his heart secretly desired, and so desperately craved. To experience some transient joy of mortal life, to possibly love, age, and finally die, and in turn be freed from the bindings of his calamitous past.

**_But still… imagine every vice you could indulge in. All the women you could have! They would acquiesce your every request, _****_obey your every whim! With an eternal life you could do whatever you pleased... _**

_I do not want a multitude of women, nor do I want an eternal life._

**_You wish to grow old? To become feeble, weak, and useless?_**

_Immortality is nothing more than a curse. In such a life, there's nothing to treasure, nothing that has value because it will never come again. Mortal's lives have meaning because they are bound by death._

Silence greeted this.

* * *

With autumn in its peak, the landscape was tinged beautifully with the mingled hue of pale orange and gold. Painted leaves, clung to the last seconds of their proud reign high in the treetops, before floating feebly to the ground, coating it in a dense, jagged blanket. The afternoons were relatively warm in Wutai in this season. A soft breeze whispered throughout the cramped cobbled streets, soothing the warm foreheads of its numerous occupants hawking their wares long into the busy afternoons. Since the resolved conflict of Deepground and Omega, a relative peace had settled upon the Planet, allowing the various members of Avalanche a somewhat more relaxed and laid-back lifestyle, though there were the odd occurrences of petty crimes to be dealt with. Aside from this, the widespread Cities and towns remained somewhat harmonious.

Wutai in particular, was once a proud, powerful and independent state, and also one of the last to remain free of Shinra's control. Eventually forced into submission, Wutai lost its independence, and the land succumbed to the devastation wreaked from the War waged against the Shinra Electric Power Company. Sadly, the town no longer served as a global power but as a simple tourist attraction and resort, leading to an increase in criminal activity. The numerous crimes committed within the city walls were becoming quite frequent with the influx of tourists passing through this particular continent, the most common of all being robbery.

On this particular late afternoon, the streets are unusually dark, poorly lit and empty. Yuffie drew her jacket tighter around her small frame, moving quietly through the deserted streets towards the refuge of her home. A large pagoda located on the very outskirts of the city. Eyes tracing every alleyway, and darkened corner intently, she scurried onwards, rushing between one dimly lit street lamp to the next. Her senses are in a heightened state, the odd and unnerving sensation of lingering eyes encouraging her pace to quicken. The invisible gaze is unfamiliar. Not innocent or reassuring, but predatory, intent on inflicting harm in the most heinous and perverse ways possible.

A large hand suddenly lashes out, tightening around her forearm, and yanking her forcefully into one of the narrow, darkened alleys. A yelp of terror rent her throat as she begins to thrash and kick in desperation, trying to pry her arm free of the unyielding grip, but it only encourages it to tighten painfully. A lick of pain spurts through her spine as it meets the cold, hard, brickwork of the alley wall. Relentless and coarse, four separate hands pin her down roughly, hands belonging to two large, indistinguishable figures moving quickly within the dimmed light. The one who grabbed her is closest, and as he leans in toward her, her stomach clenches at the sight of his scarred face. Slowly, her horrified gaze rolls downwards to his mouth, where she finds the bottom lip to be mauled beyond recognition, just a grotesque twisted mass of split muscle.

"Hey there, beautiful...," he croons, the potent stench of alcohol on his breath, "What you doing wandering around the streets at this hour?" Immediately from his utterance she realizes that he is not a local of Wutai. The man had a distinct accent, one which she had heard only a handful of times on her past travels.

"I don't think that's any of your business." She spat. Lowering her voice to a malicious whisper, she continued boldly, "Now, if you know what is good for you, you will get your stinkin' hands off me." The Ninjas voice is strong, commanding, but already she knows it will not dissuade them. She is unarmed, defenseless—completely at their mercy.

"Ooh, she is a feisty little thing isn't she?" he jeered in the direction of his lingering companion. Suddenly he draws closer, making her squirm, "I like that... makes it err... more thrilling..." he cooed sickeningly close to her ear.

His obvious intentions suddenly encourage her instincts to surface with vengeance. A hand lashes out, fingernails sinking deep into the exposed flesh of a disheveled jaw, leaving four long welts in their wake. It was a startling blow more than a truly harmful one, but it granted enough leniency in his stance for her to wrench herself free from his grip and make a bolt for the open street. With a furious snarl the other goon intervened. With another jolt of pain she was viciously slammed back against the wall and restrained, this time, by both forearms. The leader glaring malevolently at her from behind his crony as he smeared faint traces of blood from his cheek.

"You bitch... you'll pay for that" He growled menacingly, advancing towards her.

"Get the hell off me, pig!" She spat as the ringleader descended upon her, hands snaking around her thrashing wrists as he struggled to restrain her. Arms pinned, she thrashes her legs, desperate for them to make contact with something, _anything_ that will hinder his advances and grant another opportunity for escape. A disgruntled growl reached her ears as his hand moved hastily to the pocket of his coat. The distinct glint of a blade flashed suddenly before her wide eyes—he has the knife to her stomach, the cold metal pressed against her skin making her writhe.

Her protests grow desperate, but are futile against the four strong arms forcing her downwards. The knife was drawn upward, cutting somewhat frantically through the thin fabric of her shirt. Thrashing her legs hysterically, she delivers a sharp and sudden blow to the ringleaders shin. The weapon veers off course, sinking slightly into the flesh of her stomach. A cry of agony rent her throat, as an excruciating jolt of pain surged through her nerves. The mans gaze became murderous.

"Stupid little bitch, your—"

Elongated golden talons suddenly encircled the thick throat, sending a flutter to her stomach, whatever he was about to say—if anything—never left his mouth. A look of terrified stupor washed over his features as he was dragged backwards, the knife falling from his flailing hands as they attempted to desperately pry the tightening claw from around his throat. Yuffie slackened, breath coming in short labored gasps as she allows herself to slump back against the wall, grasping her side and wincing in agony. Even through her blurred vision she allows herself to briefly admire him—the svelte shadowy figure, obscured as ever, by the billowing, tattered Scarlett . The look on his face was unlike one she had ever seen before. It terrified her, _captivated her_, rooted her to the spot as though she was fixated in some sort of wonderful, yet terrifying trance.

"Pl–please... guh... let me... g-go!" the ringleader choked out, legs flaying slightly in desperation, expression wild with terror as he was dragged roughly to the center of the alley where they paused. Vincent's features twisted into an expression of fury with the utterance of the thugs words. He could feel the Demon within him stirring slightly in anticipation, as his own thoughts became clouded by other, more sinister ones.

_Rip the very flesh from his bones. Split his skull in two. See the brain matter spatter these walls... he deserves no less._

Eyes flashing dangerously he proceeded to grip the flesh tighter, studying the man with morbid fascination as a muffled, choked, gasp resounded within his throat—his struggles becoming more frantic as he desperately attempted to suck air into his depleting lungs. The gunslinger averted his burning gaze to the other goon, fixing him with a steely glare. His usually calm and monotone voice now dripping with malice, laced with an unbridled pent-up fury.

"If I ever see either of you around here again..." To enforce his threat, the click of a trigger was heard as the Cerberus was drawn and aimed swiftly at the stupefied man stood opposite. Eyes bulging within their sockets, he spluttered stupidly, raising trembling hands to the crown of his head. Mouth agape, he then threw a look of concern in the direction of his apprehended leader as the horrific sounds of desperate wheezing rent the air.

_Squeeze him. Crack those weak, brittle bones. Watch the very life fade from his eyes..._

The struggling man within the Gunman's grasp had begun to turn a sickly shade of purple—a sliver of drool seeping from the corner of his mangled lip, his eyes popping slightly from their sockets—due to the sheer force the mechanical arm possessed. It was only when his struggles began to cease that Vincent finally released his grip, a cold sneer falling upon the man now spluttering and wheezing at his feet.

He keeled over, desperately sucking in prolonged, shaking breaths—purplish-yellow bruising already rupturing the skin around his neck. Vincent watched the scene with a mild satisfied dejection, as the criminal quickly rose to his feet with some difficulty and staggered towards the bulky form of his crony. Shooting nervous glances backwards over their shoulders, they both bolted off down the alleyway, swallowed by the heavy folds of darkness once more.

"V-Vincent?" she finds her voice again, the shock replaced by relief and wonder as her hand drifted subconsciously to her still-bleeding injury. Vincent immediately turned to her, briefly following the movement of her hand with an anxious look of concern. She stumbled forward in an attempt to walk toward him, but her knees suddenly give way. Vincent rushed forward and caught her with a degree of awkwardness—the material of her jacket falling loosely to her sides—he glances the rapidly spreading red stain, stark against the white fabric of her shirt.

Quickly placing a hand beneath her, he lifts her gently into his arms, proceeding swiftly towards her home, tattered cape billowing behind him. A hand is draped slowly around his neck, drawing his red gaze to her face momentarily. She smiles feebly up at him, mouth opening to speak, but he shakes his head softly, denying her this action for concern it will drain her further.

* * *

Gently lifting the shredded remnants of her shirt, he peeled it back, revealing the ugly gash down her otherwise, flawless side. A faint blush touched her cheeks as the bare contours of her breasts were revealed, peeking from just beneath the raised hem. He seemed not to have noticed as he turned his attentions to removing his glove and placing it upon the tabletop nearby. Hand freed from its leather binding, his fingertips then ghosted lightly down the side of her chest, tracing the length of the wound. Though not suggestive in nature it made her skin bristle, his soft fingertips leaving a searing heat in their wake. And despite the painful twinge in her side—she relished every moment—_every_ _second_ of this unusual contact.

Goose bumps rose and layered the surface of her skin; he watched them erupt, gaze devouring the fullness of her breasts, prominent beneath the thin material before he forced himself to finish with his task_—_immersing the small rag in the saltwater filled bowl beside him. He was relieved that Hellmasker had remained silent all this time, though he sensed the Demon was well aware of the current, inappropriate images flashing through his mind.

Her eyes close for a moment as the salt dampened rag is drawn over the fresh wound, forcing back the tears that stung, soaking her eyelashes until they felt heavy, immovable. Her mind seemed detached from what was happening, she stared up at him through half lidded eyes, mouth slightly open, a thin perspiration beading her forehead. Leaning over her, he worked with an intent care and precision, red eyes narrowed in concentration, as he carefully pressed the rag to the broken skin. Once or twice, she flinches at the sting of intruding salt, but otherwise remains still. Even in the silence, she feels his eyes lingering on her, eliciting the most intense of shivers to creep up her spine.

_How she wished she possessed the courage to confess her true feelings... but she was too much of a coward to. The fear of rejection always prevented the words—which so desperately wanted to be spoken—from ever leaving her mouth. _

"Just a flesh wound." He muttered, offering her the smallest smile before drawing back. Gazing up at him, her expression remained undecipherable as the searing heat beneath her skin intensified. She felt a small surge of satisfaction when he appeared momentarily captivated by her expression, unable to tear his eyes away. Seeming to shake his head slightly, he focused his attentions back on the task at hand.

_This is no particular time nor place to be absentmindedly musing over inappropriate scenarios, nor her underlying affections for me. My attentions should be focused solely on the tending of her wound, nothing more. _

With skilled fingers, he places a small bandage over the laceration, carefully securing its edges by drawing his remaining fingers over the wrinkled layers of tape, smoothing them down.

"It seems, that I may have to keep a closer eye on you than first anticipated." He stated quietly, offering her another small smile. Silence falls heavy for a few moments as he turns from her, beginning to clear away the numerous objects littering the surface of the small table beside him.

"I would like that." Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper, her eyes slide back up to focus on him, hands loosely clasped atop her ribs, just over the shredded remnants of her shirt, still furled beneath her breasts. Vincent stopped in his task momentarily, his body stiffens. The silence grows heavier as he turned to her with a slight frown, making her cheeks redden further. She did not know why but she had long stopped breathing. She slowly licked her lips, his red eyes following her tongue. They held an obscure emotion within them, one she could not clearly discern.

Ignoring the ever persistent twinge in her side, she raises herself slowly onto her elbows, becoming level with him. The air grew thick with tension; as she regards him with a longing stare, her ragged inhalations the only sounds that could be heard amongst the quiet chorus of crickets outside. The Gunman studied each of her actions with a somewhat indifferent expression, remaining frozen in place as his eyes remained locked with hers. Crimson eyes followed her extended finger, widening briefly, surprised at her boldness as the cool pads proceeded to gently trace over the cool, pale skin of his cheek—lightly ghosting down to his lips—where her finger remained and applied a slight pressure.

An intense wave of panic seemed to surge suddenly within him, his expression fearful as he noted, the now steadily closing space between them. Yuffie found herself pressed up against him; his breath on her mouth, her breasts pressing into the warmth of his chest... a curious buzzing filled her ears as his long raven locks whispered tantalizingly over the bare flesh of her stomach.

"Y-Yuffie_..._?" he stammered softly, earnestly searching her face. Closing her eyes, she allows the slightest smile to grace her lips.

_How she relished the way he uttered her name_. _For so long she had dared hope he would some day...  
_

There was the slightest creak of worn leather as he extended an uncertain gloved hand. Unsure of himself and the actions he was about to commit, he let it skim gently to the side of her cheek, proceeding to tuck a stray bang behind her ear. It took what little restraint she had left within her not to gasp aloud at the deliberate tenderness of his touch. Heartbeat thrumming almost deafeningly within her eardrums, she allows her eyes to slide from his slightly parted lips to his eyes. There was no mistaking it now. No, she could see the suppressed longing within that magnificent gaze of his. The fiery incandescent pools of vermilion glittering intently with anticipation within the corrupted darkness. Her own flutter closed as she moved forward slightly, blindly, to steal the rarest and most forbidden of things from him...

A moment passed in agonizing silence.

Then, there was the softest pressure of his lips against hers—somewhat hesitant at first—as he finally closed the space between them. Her breath escaped in a shuddering gasp, her insides reduced to a liquified pool of churning pleasure. His kiss was gentle, unsure and timid, yet attentive and deliberate. And it tormented her almost to the brink of insanity. She felt his mouth open against her lips as a shudder wracked his body, but any protests or worries that might have come forth died in the low, desperate sound he emitted when she pressed her mouth more urgently to his, tongue slipping between his lips and grazing urgently against his own.

Something close to a growl reverberated from deep within his chest as her slender arms wound their way around his neck, pulling him hungrily against her, finally igniting the suppressed roaring inferno within. He kissed with such repressed fervor, untapped and raw, his tongue intertwining fiercely with her own—relentless and desperate, as a forgotten sensuality he owned awakened within him. Her breath exploded from her in a shudder, as her body roared to life, something dark and liquid rising to the surface. Never did she imagine it would be so wonderful... so libidinous... so utterly _exquisite_.

But as quickly as it was there, it was gone.

Opening her eyes, they lift back up to his face, finding a wary, maybe even frightened expression. He had drawn back slightly, a deep blush touching his cheeks as his smoldering eyes quickly broke away from hers.

_Another sin he would have to atone for..._

Her hand remained where it was, placed to the side of his pale cheek, seemingly frozen in place as she regarded him with an anxious stare. The silence that follows is stifling, almost too painful to endure. She wants to be the first to break it, yet her tongue seems almost paralyzed.

"Yuffie I_... _I am so sorry_... _I_..._" he stuttered, breath hot against her lips, his voice curiously strained and much more softer than usual. Warmth suddenly spread across her hand as he placed his on top, proceeding to gently remove it from his cheek. It should be deemed an innocent action, in and of itself. Yet he feels cruel, immoral when he does this. He feels as though he taints her with just the simplest touch.

_Why should she be tarnished by a calamitous being such as himself? Her innocence stolen... corrupted, destroyed in order for him to act upon his selfish, wretched desires?  
_

Yuffie merely stared back at him, with a look of profound forlornness. He finds her expression to be somewhat unnerving; in one fluid motion he rose, turning on his heels, advancing towards the nearby door. Yet... he pauses briefly, placing his gauntlet-ed hand onto the door-frame and slowly, he turns, quietly regarding her with an expression of penitence. His gaze is one of self-reproach, affliction... _guilt_. Offering her a silent nod of reassurance—you could say—he vanishes, within a swirl of Scarlett.

* * *

He supposes this is his way of apologizing, keeping watch over her. It was his duty—his obligation to ensure her safety, to ensure she comes to no further harm. He would not fail her, not like he failed those before her. He pauses briefly to consider how long it had been—2 weeks, maybe 16 days? Time passes so quickly now... he hardly stops to fully consider it. From afar he waits, always mindful of his concealment, ensuring she does not discover him. It had become a religious and constant routine of his now... this vigilant and odd activity of his.

Sometimes, he cannot bring himself to sleep. Often he lays there; awake within the heavy folds of the Shinra mansions darkness, continuously thinking over the details of that night, of that intimate moment shared. Inadvertently, his mind returns to these details. Briefly he allows himself to imagine her—_Yuffie_, touching him as she did on that fateful evening. The softness of her lips as they brushed against his, the sensation and warmth of her skin... her eyes, glistening with assurance, avidity—longing... a longing solely intended for him. She had been so warm, so soft, so _alive._..

However, he knows it will not be enough. Simply imagining and watching from afar would never be enough, not to quell the ache that had grown in that short time spent away from her. How he wished to be granted the satisfaction of tasting those lips again... he wanted more—_needed_ more. Yet, he could not bring himself to act upon these relentless impulses. He found himself wondering what a sight he must present to the young woman, with his unkempt hair, deathly white complexion and ragged tattered attire. Besides, why should a woman of her age, or anyone on this earthly plane care for a being such as himself?

He felt so many things—things he did not understand. He felt alleviated—alleviated that he had finally come to realize that he indeed, felt something for this woman. He also felt terrified at the prospect of accepting this, and acting upon these feelings... after all it had been a long time—a very long time—since he had dealt with the advances of the opposite sex and the temptations they evoked. Feeling emotion was supposed to be so simple. Now he couldn't say what was more confusing—feeling or understanding what he was feeling.

* * *

The Sleeping Forest was her chosen place for practice this night, for it offered a silence and tranquility other places did not. The perfect environment for her to concentrate and practice completely undisturbed. The Ninja stood within a large clearing by the lake, the surrounding glowing trees illuminating her pale skin beautifully, bathing her in a soft, eerie glow. Twisting her head from left to right, she interlocks her fingers, pushing them outwards with a slight 'crack' as she prepares for the grueling session ahead. Completely unaware of the gunman's usual, inconspicuous surveillance.

_**So, yet again you have returned to watch her I see.**_

_I am ensuring she is safe from harm. That is all. _

_**You follow her under the pretense of concern for her well-being?**_**_ You mortals are so transparent._**

Another stubborn silence, one of many, greets this riposte.

The Ninja executed a perfect back flip, the skimpy attire allowing her limbs to move freely, and somewhat more gracefully than he recalled. A fist was clenched then drawn backwards—and with a hiss, thrust forward—slicing through the air toward some invisible target. Drawing her fist back once more, she comes to a stance for a few moments. A hand suddenly flies to the holster attached to her left leg, withdrawing her four point Shuriken with admirable speed. A loud grunt split the deathly silence, followed by the loud thwack of metal hitting wood as the weapon of choice came into contact with its intended target.

All the while the Gunslinger observed her activity with evident admiration. She had improved considerably well; her accuracy and speed were impressive, even by his standards. Time seemed to stand still whenever he watched her,—unimportant, insignificant—as he sat, concealed within the thick brambles just meters away. Approximately twenty-seven minutes later (he was not fully keeping track of time anyway) the young woman paused. Stretching her limbs sluggishly, she emits a weary sigh, then proceeds towards the now splintered bark of the tree to retrieve her embedded weapons.

Wiping the perspiration from her brow, she bends, gently lying them upon the illuminated earth before her. Coming upright once more, she then turns toward the lake, lowering her fingers to the hem of her shirt. Peeling it away from her sweaty flesh, she brought it slowly upwards over her mussed up bangs, discarding it to the floor amongst her weaponry. A stifling silence falls—Vincent's breath seeming to catch within his throat as he leaned in closer, running searing eyes over his obsession—the very forest seeming to share in his voracious anticipation**.**

_He had not expected this... yet, he feels compelled to watch._

He allows himself to feel perhaps the strongest of emotions he's ever encountered. One he had not experienced for a very long time. One that had often been pushed away, disregarded since attaining near mortality. It was lust_,_ _longing... _an insatiable desire that coursed within his very veins.

Nearing the edge of the ebbing water, slender hands were now brought around to the hem of her shorts, slowly peeling them away from the lean, curvaceous muscle of her thighs. They too were discarded carelessly atop her effects. The taut, sculpted muscles of her legs and buttocks were now revealed gloriously before his hungering eyes. The overpowering need suddenly throbbed more urgently within him, aching for release, but he dared not indulge himself as he continued to watch her. Slowly she stepped into the dazzling waters, lowering the slender tips of her fingers to gently graze the calm liquid surface; encouraging small ripples to form and dance across the crystalline lagoon.

_Do ordinary people feel desire this potent? _Vincent thought, as she waded further into the pool, the motionless waters consuming her flesh—shielding it from his burning gaze.

**_Or… is it solely due to a lifetime spent denying and burying any hint of it_**_**?**_ Hellmasker responded smugly.

Ignoring the demons taunting utterance, his covetous gaze was drawn to the pink-tipped roundness of her breasts peeking just above the water's surface. Every part of her possessed such flawless beauty; the pale skin was immaculate, delicate and silken to the touch..._ tempting_ _perfection_. How he yearned to experience such exquisite beauty again. He did not seem to notice he had long stopped breathing. Breathing seemed the most mundane thing to remember, not with such perfection before him.

Throwing her dark head back in ecstasy as the cool waters washed over her heated skin, she melted slowly beneath them. It took what little restraint that remained within him to stay put. Mercifully, Vincent lingered where he was, desperate for calm before he glimpsed her again. With a series of erratic ripples Yuffie rose, exhaling sharply as she burst forth from the shimmering waters, hands encasing her crown, drawing them back to disperse thick rivulets of excess water from her long dark locks.

Vincent's mouth seemed curiously dry, his eyes lingering on the shining droplets as they made their way temptingly down her porcelain skin, tracing the tender curves of her breasts... creeping down to the soft rotundity of her hips. Watching from afar was trivial, a hazy version of reality. A sickening desire begged him to join her. To devour every gleaming droplet dispelled amongst her skin, inhaling her naturally sweet scent... tasting her...

For only a few moments more did he keep his silent observation, fighting to keep restraint, to keep these persistent urges within him at bay. Rising swiftly, he retreated into the shadows, traipsing silently between the thickening trees as his trained eyes sought the small, dirt clearing leading back to the coastline.

**_Magnificent isn't she? _****_I think you a fool not to approach her, to confess your true desires. _**

_Indeed, she is. But I do not deserve her._ Vincent responded somberly, eyes remaining lowered, tracing the delicate tree roots that had, over time, ventured onto the small pathway, rupturing its pressed, trodden soil. _  
_

**_Pray tell, why not?_**

_I will only extinguish the light within her with my tribulation... hinder her exuberance and felicity. I fear to confess my desires because, in reality, I can never give her what she wants._

**_So, you will condemn yourself to an _**_**eternal solitude on account **_**_of fear? Why will you not allow yourself to acquire some satisfaction, some happiness for once in your wretched life?_**

_I already had the opportunity to. I destroyed it... blighted it, with my foolish actions and irresponsible decisions. Besides, _n_ever would she gain contentment from a monstrosity such as me. In time another will attain her affections... court her... give her everything her heart desires... everything she deserves._

**_I detect sadness in your tone. Is it because you wish more than anything to be that person? _**

Vincent remained silent, offering the demon no answer, for he knew the beings speculation to be painfully true_**.**_


End file.
